Was Portiforo on the level? That was the question which was perplexing Gale now. He was too astute and sophisticated a man to be entirely deceived by the Baracoan president’s air of sincerity, for in his newspaper work he had been thrown with New York politicians who had been equally perfervid in declaring that they “courted investigation,” and experience had taught him that this wasn’t always to be taken as a sign of innocence. But the result of his investigations to date seemed to favor Portiforo. His tour of inspection through El Torro prison and his skillfully disguised questioning of the soldiers of the garrison and many residents of Puerto Cabero and San Cristobal had failed to unearth a single clew. His conversations with Captain Reyes, whose friendship he had managed to cultivate without difficulty, and who impressed him as being a frank and rather simple-minded chap, had proved equally unproductive. Then, too, there was the attitude of Minister Throgmorton. As Virginia had told the Camera Chap, Gale had discussed the matter with the United States representative at the breakfast table that morning, and the latter had waxed highly indignant at such insinuations being made against his good friend Portiforo, who, he declared, was the very soul of honor. Being a pretty good judge of men, the _News_ reporter was not disposed to regard Minister Throgmorton as one of the most brilliant and keen-witted diplomats he had ever met; still, he considered it scarcely likely that Portiforo and his friends could have got away with such an audacious kidnaping plot without the American minister knowing something about it. Therefore, the latter’s faith in the President of Baracoa went a long way toward influencing Gale’s judgment. That afternoon Gale received a second dispatch from Ben Stephens, his managing editor. It was terse and to the point. It read: “Have you dropped dead? If not, why don’t we hear from you regarding assignment?” Gale was strongly inclined to wire back that he had made a thorough and laborious investigation of the tip and begged to report that somebody had handed the _News_ a large and juicy citron. There was only one reason why he did not take this step. That reason was--the Camera Chap. He was afraid that Hawley might have been more successful than he in picking up a clew corroborative of President Felix’s incarceration in El Torro. Much as he disliked the Camera Chap, he had a wholesome respect for that wide-awake man’s shrewdness and ability, and he didn’t deem it safe to throw down the story until he was sure that his rival was ready to quit. So he wired back to Stephens that he was still alive, and had been working hard on the assignment, but was not yet ready to report. That evening, however, something occurred which caused him to send another dispatch. Shortly after dinner, Gale was writing some letters in the library of the legation when he heard voices in the garden below.